About This Blog

This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!

The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.

I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.

Thursday, 29 April 2010

My voting dilemma

The times they are a changing, so the song goes, but my situation hasn't changed at all.  Same old grind every day I'm afraid.

I haven't been keeping up with the political situation either.  I find it hard to believe any of the three main candidates in the election as none of them has so far been able to explain where all this money they need to repay the national debt and boost the economy is going to come from.  At the end of the day, the tax payer will foot all the bills via National Insurance, etc. and in doing so will have to suffer a reduction in public services such as the NHS.  This is hard to swallow as the national debt was not incurred directly by us or, for the most part, not for us.  This country gives billions away to needy country's and causes every year to the detriment of our own needs.  I'm not by any means suggesting that foreign aid should stop, but it should be reviewed and balanced against our own countries need for cash.

Additionally, politicians have recently voted themselves yet another pay rise whilst publicly saying that the state of the economy would be able to stand any pay rises in the public sector (please note they voted themselves their pay rise BEFORE saying public sector pay rises would be bad for the economy).

I have voted Conservative since I was old enough to vote (my father was a miner during the 70's strikes so I'm anti-unions and anti Labour - they were hard times for us kids) but this time around I don't know who will get my little cross on the ballot paper.
Cameron doesn't cut it ... doesn't come across as being very sincere, and when he does, it seems like he's over doing it.  Brown, to me, does seem not up to the job.  He led us into the recession, has been incredibly soft on money-grabbing banks and has a face (not to mention a mouth) that let's slip what he is really thinking about us all.
As for the other guy (who's name I still can't remember) ... he may be the light at the end of the tunnel, as it were, but as with every other Lib-Dem leader in the past, where is his experience?  It's all very well saying "everyone has to learn" but at the end of the day this country is a pretty big and easily damage testing ground.

Tonight's debate on the economy might be worth a watch and may shed some light as to methods of repaying this massive public debt without taking yet more money from our pockets or taking away our from our public services (with are thread bare already if you believe what some people are saying).

I will remain in limbo until someone shows me the right way to go.

Tuesday, 27 April 2010

Jimmy & Ginny

Jimmy took a leek,
Ginny had a peek,
and saw something she didn't ougtha.
She was shocked,
then her world was rocked,
and now she's expectin' a daughter.

Saturday, 24 April 2010

New Counter

As you can see there is a new visitors counter.  The previous one got to 300 went a bit funny (counted in two's ... two up, two down)

So we start again ...


OK ... so the new counter wasn't much good either ....

Friday, 23 April 2010

Pet Hates

Traffic was very bad today.  Yesterday, there was hardly a car on the road by comparison.
Stuck in one queue of cars after another, I started thinking about pet hates ... one of them is heavy traffic ... and I came up with the following things that really get up my nose.

In no particular order of 'hate' level, here they are ....

Number one is that solid gold favourite of most teenagers that land in trouble with the law ...

    I was/We were bored cos I/we had nothing to do and nowhere to go!

I mean, that statement wears thin after a while, especially as (most) kids today have more than ever before.

Number two is the minority of people who fight for rights of those convicted of crimes and find themselves detained for a few (or more) years at one of Her Majesties many custodial establishments.  For some reason their 'rights' include TV's, radios, laptops, gym access, and God knows what else.  How many of these 'do-gooders' run to a victim of crime and offer THEM support? I believe that all  prisoners should be guaranteed their basis human rights during their sentence, but the key word there was basic, not extravagant.  They are meant to be punish with incarceration for their crimes, not rewarded.

Number three are those people who get so emotionally involved in something (charities, politics, sports,etc..)  that they break down in tears when someone dares take a different stand on the subject or when they are confronted with evidence that disproves what they believe.  Note: It's not the people that I hate, it's their reactions.

Number four is the fact that every generation thinks that they are starting the teenage revolution and that they, and their friends, are unique in doing what they are doing, going where they go and liking the things they like.  Their basic assumption is that older folks have no idea what being a teenager is all about and seem to disbelieve that anyone in their 30's, or older, could ever have been young.

Number five is dog owners that let their dogs dump anywhere they please without picking it up and binning it.

There are loads more, but I reckon I've bored you enough for one day.

Thursday, 22 April 2010

The Langaroo

There's a monster following me everywhere,
It's hiding in those trees just over there.
They call it the Langaroo,
And it will follow me whatever I do.
It'll eat my flesh and drink my blood,
And leave me dying in the wood.
They say that if it follows you there's nothing you can do,
And in the the end when it's dead that you become the dreaded Langaroo.
I asked for help but no one heeds,
They don't believe in it's grisly deeds.
There's nowhere to safe for me to hide,
So for now my time I'll have to bide.
Don't linger here for there is nothing you can do,
Because pretty soon I will be the Langaroo!

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Those Who Fell

I often stop and wonder why,
and ask 'What it's all about?'
I find myself looking into the sky,
and hear myself scream and shout.

I wake from my sleep,
with my heart beating fast.
And tears I weep,
as I long for safer days past.

More sand and dust,
another day of hell.
Doing what I must,
remembering those who fell.

Winning hearts and winning minds,
trying every day.
Doing this job takes all kinds,
but I wish it would just go away.

I dread each day when we go out to seek,
the enemy with his gun.
But all I have left is one long week,
then my time here will be done.

I hope I can hold my head up high,
and say 'I did my job well'.
And I, with a sigh,
will remember those who fell.

Tuesday, 13 April 2010

Politics and the Election

We are only one or two days into the run up to the election and already I have had  enough already.
The candidates seem to be spending more time slagging off each other than getting their points across.

The main topic though seems to be the deficit ... or the debt we owe to everyone else ... which is apparently humongous.  It's bigger than it has ever been before and it's going to take a lot of our taxes to get it down to a respectable figure.

Note:  banks turn people down for loans if there appears to be any risk of payments not being made ... so who checks to see if a government can afford the re-payments?

Now, I have no idea how to reduce this deficit, but I'm not sure if Cameron, Brown or that other chappie (who's name always escapes me) have either.  Oh, they all have plans but most of it seems to be taking money from A to give to C who gives it back to B.  So they shuffle this money around, but at the end of the day it's coming from you and me in the form of duty on fuel, increased taxes, and increases on the price of all the fun things.

I don't know much about politics and don't take it too seriously so I think the best thing for me to do is keep my head down in the sand and wait until it's all over.


Sunday, 11 April 2010

Thursday, 8 April 2010

Biscuits: A re-post

I am having a bit of a 'moment'!

I have two packets of shortbread fingers in the cupboard and I  can hear them calling to me ... I really can!

The cries of 'eat us' can be heard very clearly and it's driving me nuts!  I have to lose a pound or two and knowing how desperate they are to be eaten makes it very hard for me ... come to think of it, ALL food is making it hard!

From my first waking moments, as my consciousness is still desperately trying to negotiate the myriad neural pathways of my brain, the lightning fast command to find something to eat will already have winged it's way throughout my system to be answered by my rumbling stomach and it's demand for satisfaction.

This craving for constant nourishment of the unhealthy variety only seems to occur ONLY on those days I find myself at home.  When I'm out and about working, I don't feel hungry and certainly don't think about food, healthy or otherwise.  Isn't that funny?

Anyway, those shortbreads have had it!!!

Tuesday, 6 April 2010

Up to date

Well, that seems to be it.  All the posts from the previous 'blog' are now here (that is, all those that I wish to have here).

I hope you find them amusing.

More coming soon


(Originally posted on March 25, 2010)

I had an interesting, if confusing, kangaroo-like conversation this morning.

It was prompted by the budget (should that be a capital ‘b’?) and the tax on cider. The topics ranged from morning rituals such as horrific pre- and post-breakfast flatulence (not me, I can assure you) to the penalties government seems to be imposing on the less well off and culminated with a brief discussion about the re-distribution of wealth,  which apparently, only poor people seem to be interested in.

I must admit, that I lost the thread quite a few times, as my client’s mother and father’s grey cells jostled for position on the starting grid of subjects.  They are both well educated people and have very good jobs, but their mental aerobics at 8 am are just a little too much for me.

I had just managed to get to grips with the subject of cider and the fact that people (cider producers probably) are complaining about the tax hike, when there was a dramatic change of direction and I found myself contemplation the benefit, or lack thereof, of baked beans for breakfast (hence the flatulence debate which raged for nearly five whole minutes).

I really do like to have a decent debate now and again; I just love taking the opposite side to the person who started the debate in the first place; but I could not keep up with what was going on this morning.

I consider myself to be mentally agile and capable of giving a very good account of myself in a bout of verbal sparring, but in order to do that, I need to be able to get a word in edgeways.

The pace of the whole discussion, which only last for twenty minutes or so while I waited for my client, was high tempo and caused me to re-evaluate my mental capacity to flaunt my brilliance in an intellectual battle of wits with fast talking know-it-all’s.

I’ll be alright in here though.

Letter Home

(Originally posted on February 21, 2010)

Dear Mum,

I took the dogs to the park today and it was in a hell of a state ... litter all over the place, but it's the dog mess that I find hard to swallow!

Nextdoor's house repairs are going well, but it's a bit noisy around here now.  Betty, our neighbour, said the builders have some huge tools and are driving her crazy!

The neighbours on the otherside of us are loud too. Their 18 year old son is continually banging his balls against our fence.

Oh, by the way, there are tiles missing from our outside toilet roof.  I think it was bad wind we had the other night that blew them away. It's going to have to be knocked down anyway ... 50% of the walls are damp,
50% are crumbling and 50% just down right filthy.

Anyway, that's all for now mum cos my Julie say's I spend too much time writing tosh.

Your son

Blog Rules

(Originally posted on February 20, 2010)

Whilst typing my little journal entries I endeavour, having taken on board recommendations of a colleague, to maintain a simplistic form of sentencing, thus avoiding overly long statements riddled with intricate and complex mind melting dribble which mere mortals would struggle to comprehend.

Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalianism is also something I will avoid and, where possible, diminutive alternatives to some words will be employed.

Also, when generalizing, I will refrain from further generalisation of the generalized thread as, generally speaking, things generally get complicated.

Furthermore, I promise to proof read all my articles so as not to omit or leave any sentence unfini

And if I have been guilty of the occasional use of one word sentences, then I promise these will also disappear.  Forever! Always!


(Originally posted on February 15, 2010)

Books! I read 'em all the time, sometimes into the wee small hours.

I read books by Pratchett (got 'em all n read 'em more than once), Holt (very funny), Deavers (nice twists n turns) and a host of others too.

But I have come to learn that there are only three basic story lines that authors follow.  Oh, I know they all write about different things, but they all follow three principle themes.

- Boy meets girl

The 'Boy' meets the 'Girl' of his dreams and rather than just getting down to the nitty-   gritty, the 'Girl’ plays hard to get, forcing the boy to prove his love via some sort of adventure/task.

- Hero and villain

The good guy saves girlfriend/friends/country/world by facing and defeating a bad guy who inexplicably wastes every opportunity to kill the hero by taking just enough time to explain how he is going to kill said hero using an impressive technological method, wherein the hero comes up with an instant plan of how to kill the baddy and escape. 

note:  A villain could be anyone or thing.  Maybe even an inanimate object (obviously it wouldn't talk but something will pop up to help the hero-chappy)

- Jerk

This is sometimes a combination of the other two.  The 'Jerk' is the lovable fool who is the butt of all jokes, the lowest of the low and the least likely person that anyone would/could fall for.  But, low and behold, after a series adventurous mishap's the 'Jerk' finds out he's a damned site cleverer than everyone, including himself, thought he was and he wins the day and the girl!

There are, of course, a myriad of variations to these three themes, but they all follow very similar lines. Sometimes they cross and intertwine giving the reader the impression of uniqueness', but I assure you, they all are basically the same as the descriptions above. 

What, I hear you ask, is the point of this article?

And the answer is simply...

... I have no idea! It just popped into my head so I thunked about it then typed it.  That is how my head works ... or doesn't ... if you know what I mean. 

There should be a sign outside our house saying

        DANGER!  Man Thunking Inside 

Thunks and Stuff

(Originally posted on February 14, 2010)

[Intentional deletion]

I’ve had some thunks of late ... some disturbing ... some pleasant  ... some you ain’t not never gonna hear about.  But some thunks are stickier than others.  Like one about all them folks whose lives appear to revolve
around their medical conditions and complaints.

In my job it’s a regular thing to listen to horror stories about, for instance, operations and the scars they leave.
Never, however, have I been witness to a loud “keeping up with the Jones’s” argument about whose operation had been the most dramatic/horrific/traumatic such as was the case when I visited Burger King at Culverhouse Cross, Cardiff.

It went something like this;

Woman 1:  “Scar?  I’ve got wrinkles bigger than that”
Woman 2:  “But you never saw the size of the swelling I got from the infection”
Woman 1:  “Don’t talk to me about infections!  I was in the Heath (hospital) for a month because of
                       the infection they gave me”
Woman2:   “They kept me in for six weeks with mine”
Woman1:   “Yeah, but I had to go in for another two weeks ‘cos it flared up again”

I couldn’t help but think of Les Dawson and Roy Barrowclough as I listened, nay, eavesdropped on their
conversation.  But it  wasn’t  really the medical discussion that sticks in my mind, but rather the ‘one-upmanship’ which I found very amusing.

In recent months and years, I have observed, and probably even got myself caught up in, any amount  of ‘one-upmanship’ contests.  They range from the absurd to the sublime covering such subjects as garden furniture, children, PC’s, religion and ... dare I say it ... dogs.

And it is dogs which drag me into the depths of ‘one-upmanship’ competition.  Alas, like many dog lovers, I am incredibly proud of my dogs; their gentleness, devotion and skills at such mundane things as ‘sit’ and 'down’.  And to my shame, I have uttered those dreaded words “Ah, but my dogs can ...” a number of times.

Anyone else out there ever done it? Go one ... admit it!

We ALL do it cos they are family, after all.

Volcanic Milk

(Originally posted on January 28, 2010)

When there is a possibility of something going wrong, it probably will.

I don't mean those risky things that you might do once in a blue moon, I mean those every day things that you do without thinking and where disaster is never contemplated, let alone experienced.

For instance, how difficult can it be to put a bottle of milk back into the fridge?

What are the odds that said bottle of milk will 'slip' though your fingers, bounce off your knee and land in the dog's water bowl?

Quite high I reckon ... so high in fact that I reckon a £50 bet would have let me retire to see out my days in a pretty confortable manner.

Well, I didn't expect it and I didn't make the bet, but it happened anyway.

To cap it all, I hadn't put the screw top on properly and when the bottle landed bottom down in the water bowl, not only was there a fountain af water, but there was also a volcano-like erruption of milk.

I won't bother to describe the clean-up operation ... needless to say the kitchen roll took a hammering and I am now down half a bottle of milk.

What really get's up my nose at the moment though is that I can't think of a word that 'properly' rhymes with pizza!

As if life wasn't hard enough already!!!

Cat n dog

(Originally posted on January 24, 2010)

Sym has just been taken by surprise by a very inquisitive cat.  He jumped so high he could have won an Olympic high jump medal.  When he came down, he looked a little embarrassed about it and gave Blossom
the 'curled lip' treatment which, to her credit, she took a swipe at.

And all because she wanted to have a sniff at his nose!
She legged it, of course, after she swiped at him but only as far as the back of the sofa where she could keep an eye on him.  She gave him 'the glare' which only a cat could give and settled down to 'eye-ball' him for as
long as it would take to make him move.

But Sym, I have to tell you, is made of sterner stuff than you could imagine and steadfastly refused to back away.  Whereas Blossom stared, Sym only glanced but each glance was accompanied be that classic curl of
the lip.  Whereas Sym lay in the same place, Blossom moved very slowly, inch by inch, closer to her nemesis.

I was beginning to think this could mean the beginning of a 'pet war' and was contemplating intervention when Clover, oblivious to what was 'occurring' (little bit of Gavin and Stacey for you there), plonked herself right between them.

It had an effect better than any UN peacekeeping force could ever have had.

Sym turned and faced the other way and Blossom leapt from one sofa to another and, nose down, went to sleep.

Clover just looked at me and wagged her tail.

Sox is terrified of both of our cats and treats them with the utmost respect, therefore it was hardly surprising that she ignored the situation from a very safe distance.

Threat over, I made myself a cup of coffee and watched yesterday’s F.A. Cup highlights on T.V.

Life is never dull in this house!

6 am

(Originally posted on January 23, 2010)

Six o’clock in the morning and the watery-eyed doggies went out into the frosty garden to relieve themselves of their collective burden.  Bladders empty, they return to the house and put themselves back to bed, as does the lucky person who had to get up and open the door for them.

Between eight and eight-thirty, it’s doggy breakfast time in our house.  I let them into the garden while I get their food ready. This is usually the time when Sox turns into Tigger (bouncing up and down with an occasional whine) and Clover seems to do a lot of running on the spot.

Once they go outside, Sym, cool and calm, will sidle over for some ‘morning’ fuss.  When the food hits their tin bowls, they come back into the house.  Sox and Clover will go back to their beds and Sym will stand close to me and wait for his food to be put down.  Once a little drop of hot water, olive oil, garlic and gravy has been mixed in their Trophy (advertising) grub, it’s put down for them.

Clover dives into her bowl like one of those exhibition divers from the cliffs in Acapulco (Mexico), and doesn’t come up for air until everything is gone.

Sox, ever the dainty one, will pick her food out one bit at a time and constantly looks around for approval.  She rarely eats everything in her bowl because she has to check out all the other bowls for leftovers first.  Whilst she is checking, Clover eats what she has left.

Sym will stand and look at his food.  It looks almost as if he is daring his food to try and escape. What he is actually waiting for is for someone to say “Who’s a good boy then?  Get your food!” and give him yet more fuss (which he thoroughly deserves ... or so he would have us believe).

When the food is gone, Clover and Sox retire to their cushions by the radiator and Sym goes into what I call his “warrrrggggghhhhh” routine.  This consists of him throwing his head and neck sideways onto the floor.  His back legs then propel him along the carpet as he makes his “warrrrggggghhhhh” sound.  This is then repeated along the back of the sofa and will continue until someone scratches his nose!!!

Once his nose has been scratched, he will settle down on a cushion or slink away into the corridor so he can see people passing the front door.


Then I sit down and have my coffee.


(Originally posted on January 12, 2010)

I was having my breakfast at teatime on a cold, dark sunlit morning when to my surprise I could smell the colour of the sound the door bell makes.

"Well" I said loudly to myself. "Who on earth could be banging my bell in that shade of pink"?

Curious as to whom my visitor may be, I sent the dog to the front door with a 50p piece and a note saying 'call me'.

A few minutes later the phone rang so I answered the door saying "It’s a little bit late to be phoning at this time in the morning isn't it"?

The lady at the door I immediately recognised as someone I didn't know.

"Sir" she said without a by your leave. "I am your local neighbourhood Avon lady and I have travelled many miles from across the street to save your legs from the terrible blight of hairy legness".

Had she seen me through the window as I paraded myself naked dressed as a man with clothes on?  Had my wife informed her of my most deeply held secret during one of her weekly naughty knicker meeting in the church hall?

How could she know of my shameful secret that only a handful of people at 'Gossips Anonymous' knew?

"Come in" I spluttered at her "and wipe your face with this towel".

She entered by way of in and stood in the hallway as I closed the door in the direction of shut.

"Tell me," I said as the last drops of spittle were wiped from her chin "how did you come into possession of the knowledge which you know of my hairyness"?

"Sir," she said pronouncing the comma, "I must confess that I did not know of your hairyness and that I used that merely as a ruse to gain access to your home".

"Well it worked" I answered somewhat jealously as I did not have a comma in my statement that I could pronounce as well as she had pronounced hers.

"I am in fact your local neighborhood murderer from London" she stated calmly pulling out a huge knife of minute proportions "and I have come to extract revenge on you, Arthur Plunger, for sneakily telling the law publicly who I am."

"But I live in Cardiff and my name is Daffydd Murgatroyd!" I spluttered again handing her the towel.

"Plunger wasn't at home!" she said calmly.

I stood, nervously hopping from foot to foot and said "I have no more dialogue."

"Neither have I" she answered.

"Are we done then” I asked.

"Suppose so" she said.

We retired to the billiard room which wasn't there yesterday and agreed totally with each other that it was a peculiar ending to a promising start and mediocre middle.

"We should have done the 'Four Candles' sketch" I said.

"Been done" she answered bitterly.

Together we sidled from the page and out of view of the reader.

"That was embarrassing" we said together as the author closed the editor and saved his work.


(Originally posted on January 10, 2010)

You know, I have spent most of my life running around with an "it could be worse" attitude and I'm fed up with it!  It IS bloody worse!!!

I'm not one for excessive use of !'s but this country (and I mean the UK as a whole) is the cheapest, nastiest and dirtiest place on this globe and I think that justifies quite a few of them!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know the old saying "practice makes perfect" ... well, successive UK governments have been practicing on us for God knows how many years and they still can't get it right.

I was a strong supporter of Thatcher back in the days of the miners strikes ... not because she broke the unions* but because she was consequential in what she did. But things have moved on and we have Gordon Brown ... a number cruncher who does not command respect and hasn't got a clue about getting the people on his side.

On the other hand who have we got? Clegg (just out of nappies) and Cameron (just out of shorts)!  Two smarmy yuppy types who'd much rather give slick answers than give a simple "yes" or "no".

Also there are too many do-gooders out there trying to save everyone's human rights from being abused and they are ALL trying to complicate the issue.  No one fights for "basic" human rights anymore with the excption of aid agencies.  The "do-gooders" are fighting for rapists, murderers and thugs in general to have radio's, PC's, gym equipment, TV's etc., etc., etc..  The victims of these people are left without a friendly neighbourhood human rights activist in sight.

We have gang violence and intimidation happening on a daily basis and how is it combated?  Tagging, verbal slapped wrists and asbo's!  None of which has been proved to be effective.  Convert the prison gym's into cells and lock the buggers up. Pack 'em in like sardines and sod their human rights. Lock 'em up for longer and longer until they get the message.  And I don't just mean the yob's and criminals out there ... put the politicians away too.

Now that was a rant, but I am really fed up with british society ... but I like dog's, so I can't be all that bad.

*my dad was a miner in the north and he was out on strike like (almost) everyone else.  I remember not having very much to each and most meals were corned beef and potatoes.  But I can also remember seeing that b%&*ard Scargill turning up at a rally in a chaufer-driven car and also hearing how he, as union leader was still on full pay whereas everyone I knew was on pittance strike pay.  I hated that man and blamed him and his arrogance for ALL of the hardships heaped on the miners during the strike.

Went the day well?

(Originally posted on December 26, 2009)

Went the day well?

Did you all enjoy the BIG day?

Mine started at 7am to see to the dogs (and to have some 'me' time before it all kicked off).  Julie and I prep'd all the veg on the 24th so on the 25th it was just a case of putting out the prezzies (those not under the tree), having a quick tidy up, laying the table and knackering the dogs in the park(my job again ... more later).

We decided to have a late lunch and the 'outlaws' were invited for 4pm.  All went very, very well for a change and the meal was agreed by all to have been excellent.  We shared cooking duties this year and luckily it wasn't a case of 'to many cooks ... '.

Our only incy-wincy problem was a cream cake that should have been for later ... it sort of melted!  The heat in the kitchen reduced it, much to my disappointment, to a creamy puddle.  I still have it in the fridge, my theory being that it's altered appearance surely cannot make it taste different.  I shall let you know if I am right later ... should I survive the experiment, that is.

Anyway, the BIG day in our house was pretty much the same as the BIG day in yours, so I won't bore you with details such as who got what and what the first argument was about.

As I mentioned above, it was (again) my job ... I mean 'honour' ... to take the 'babes' to the park.  And yesterday, a certain yappy lil' bug'r called Jack accompanied us.  It was his first Park outing and he stayed on the lead, albeit a long one.
I couldn't carry and use a camera as well as Sym's flicky-stick, cheese and hold the lead, so there is an absence of evidence to prove that Jack behaved himself really well.
Sym did his running, sliding, chasing thing and the girls, Sox and Clover wandered around checking out the local doggy news.  Poor old Sox did slip on some ice early in our walk, and she yelped and limped on three legs back to her daddy for some comfort, which she duly received (and a piece of cheese).  After a minute or two, she was fine and wandering again.  But, low and behold, went I called them back to me for a treat she came back on three legs!
"Look at me dad, I hurt my leg!  Gimme loads of fuss and cheese."
After a pat, piece of cheese and a couple of 'good girl's',  she walked away on all four legs again.  She repeated this trick twice more before deciding it was too much effort for one piece of cheese.

Jack loved the park, but not his lead.  If I stopped to pick up poo or Sym's ball, I more often than not had Jack at the end of his lead running on the spot on a patch of ice.  I would have liked to let him off, but I think I would prob'ly have had to chase him all over Cardiff to get him back.

We didn't have much time in the Park, only about an hour and a half, but it was enough to make all four pups crash out when we got home.  I nearly fell asleep myself!

By 11pm yesterday, ev'ryone but your's truly and the pups were in bed, bloated and farting like bears after all those lovely sprouts we had at lunchtime.

I must admit, it had been a good day ... no hostilities and  no unwanted presents ... and no one exploded after all that food.

Happy Boxing (recovery) Day!

Christmas Spirit

(Originally posted on December 22, 2009)

Am I the only one or are there others who seems to have lost their Christmas spirit?

When I was a kiddie back in the 60's, Christmas was the highlight of the year; films on telly, presents,snow (nearly every year back then) and loads of food and sweets.  Now, well, it's just a lot of hard work for one day.

I know Santa personally (I met hin in Queens Street, Cardiff selling the Big Issue [must be a second job] ) and even he said Christmas has lost it's sparkle.  If Santa doesn't think Christmas is special, then I think we are in for a pretty boring yuletide.

TV repeats will be repeated ...again!  Noel bleedin' Edmonds will be dragged out again doing 'nice' things. Oh, and there'll be at least on program that plays Slade's Merry Christmas again and again and again!

But where are the the old Christmas values?  Nowerdays it's all about someone making money and the BBC and ITV saving it by showing you old programmes and saying 'you are in for a treat cos we are showing you some old favourites'.

Now I know I still have some Christmas spirit left ... but I'll be damned if I know where Julie hid the bottle.

Once more, dear reader (who ever you are), Humbug with bells on!!!

Sunday, 4 April 2010

Waiting for Christmas 2

(Originally posted on December 19, 2009)

Sometimes you have to take risks ... like this one I'm taking now!  I'm fairly sure that [name removed] aint about so I should be able to finish this article without any surprises waiting for me when I close up.

It is now officially "Christmas" because most, well some of us at least, have already started their Christmas holidays.  I finish work for two days on the evening of the 23rd and face the daunting uphill battle, as we all do, to get this place ship shape for the festivities.  We have a tree (imitation, of course ... no screams) but we are opting out of all the tinsel and paper chains that always leave so much mess on the floor ... that's what the dogs are for now.
We have our smattering of Christmas cards lined up on every bit of furniture with a flat surface and we have Sky + so basically, that's all we are doing (the Sky + isn't exactly a festive decoration, but it does let me see all the football I want to see).

No doubt other households around the UK are also spartanly decorated ... that's what always happens when the "kids" become young "adults" and discover the delights of opposite sex and alcohol, and get their driving licence.  It's a shame they have to grow up really ... they should just move out before they reach their teens!

Anyway, Christmas;  "Humbug", "Figgy pudding", "Ho-ho-ho" and all that!  It isn't as exciting as it was when we were little, is it!  It's hard work!  And it doesn't matter how hard you try, someone will ALWAYS find something to moan about:  "This gravy is a bit thin, isn't it!",  "Couldn't you afford proper mince pies?", "Call this a turkey? Our budgie's bigger than this!".

Then there is always the unexpected visitor for lunch, the uncle who you only see at Christmas when he comes to collect his presents, or the aunt who can't stop herself from squeezing out an SBD* every few minutes and blaming someone else.  Has anyone ever had a perfect Christmas?

We've left those perfect days long behind us, I'm afraid.  The days of the "Singing, ringing Tree" on TV at Christmas are long gone and have been replaced by classics such as "Top Gear Christmas Specials", the never ending saga of the "Great Escape", and "Noel's Christmas .... " whatever they're calling it this year "Show"

At the end of the day, whether you like Christmas or loath it, we are still going to go through the motions of having a good time, even though the turkey burns to a cinder, your presents are all naff and someone throws up on your new rug.  And next year we'll all be saying "D'you remember last year when ...." as if last year was something special and magic.

It's going to be a long, hard Christmas day ... I've got the 'outlaws' coming around!

Merry Christmas and Hum-bloody-bug to you all  (with knobs on)

*   Silent But Deadly farts

Waiting For Christmas 1

(Originally posted on December 15, 2009)

Isn't this a grand time of year?

Christmas trees, holly, mistletoe? Maybe even the chance of snow at Christmas!  The odd's for white one habe risen since the news of colder weather coming from northern europe.

Get your thermal knickers out ladies 'cos you might just be having snowball fight and sledging trips after all ... while we 'chaps' stay in the warm watching all those winter sports where other people hear the chink, chink of spherical objects being frozen off.

Yes, it's here at last ... doesn't seem like ten minutes ago that we had the last one does it?

Christmas ... a time of good will and cheer to all men and expensive prezzies to all women.

To all you men out there in 'doggie' land, how many of you have a pact with their other half not to buy each other's presents?

Let me tell you now, before it's too late ... such pacts are not meant to be adhered to!  If your significant other say's to you "Let's not buy each other anything this year" it means 'surprise me'.

Not that you will be surprised at Christmas, because she will turn around and say "Oh! But I thought we'd agreed not to to the prezzy thing this year" and believe me, she willl feel no guilt ... and will prob'ly look stunning in her new earrings/dress/coat/shoes/necklace.

OK, there are instances where this whole thing works the other way around, but they are few and far between.  So get yourselves to the shops as soon as possible, because if her Christmas is 'presentless'  your lunches and dinners will lose their flavour/be burnt/not appear and there will be a slow deterioration of quality in the her 'wifley' functions.

I hope you heed this warning ... your quality of life could depend upon it.

Ask yourself;  Has she seen something in a shop window lately and said "That's nice!", has she ever said "Mrs So 'n So's got a new [insert whatever it was]"?

If any of those, or something similar, are true ... go shopping NOW!!!

To those who ignore this warning ... when your lunch is cold or you are having tuna sanwiches for the third day in a row, remember ...

I told you so!

P.S.  Saying to her "but we agreed ...." could, in the words of Soup Dispenser Repair Technician third class Dave Lster, land you in deep smeg!

Friday, 2 April 2010

Chocy Eggs

Unlike some folks, I don't blog on a daily basis.  I wait for that vital spark of inspiration caused by the collision of my two brain cells.

Today, as it is Good Friday, I thought Easter would be a good topic.

I am not really a religious person therefore Easter, for me, has always been less of a religious celebration Christ's crucifixion and resurrection, and more of a time of chocolate egg counting and eating.

There is something different about eating an Easter egg ... there's the novelty of a hollow egg, of course... but there is also the taste.  Is it just me, or do they REALLY taste different? Better?

They seem to be more addictive too.  When I start eating one, I can't stop! If it was your regular 200 or so gram bar of milk chocolate, I could put it down after only a few squares.  But an Easter egg?  That has to be scoffed until it is all gone!

The trouble is with Easter eggs though, is that as the prices rise, the size of the egg reduces.  And when it says on the box that it weighs 155g, how do you know they are telling the truth?
A short while ago I unwrapped and weighed an Easter egg to check its weight and although it said net weight 155g, it only weighed 145g ... I was gutted!  I was short changed 10 whole grams of choccy!!!

When you buy your Easter eggs, there is normally some gimmick or other attached, aimed at kids.  Cuddly toys, cartoon characters and stuff like that.  We have cupboards full of Cadbury's and Simpson's mugs that were bought by people who knew we liked chocolate and, for some reason, thought we were mug-less.

All this talk of  choccy has made me hungry ...

Thursday, 1 April 2010

Trouble maker

(Originally Posted on March 27, 2010 and caused quite a stir)

The texts in red are 'my' words, the text in blue come from the organisation quoted. The green text are explanations explaning WHY I wrote what I did.

If you do not like people having different opinions to yourself, DO NOT READ ON (you know who I mean)

Please note, as others previously have not, that this article seeks neither to advocate or denounce the methods of Cesar Millan.  Neither does it intend to question the findings or views of any animal welfare or rescue organization.  This article reflects MY views and MY opinions based on viewing the evidence posted on the internet relating to the two cases quoted below.


This article is meant to be thought provoking and is not in any way an attack on anyone using, or posting, on this [deleted word].

This article is also not intended to reflect ANY of the policies of [deleted words] and is DOES NOT reflect the views of any of the Trustee's, [deleted word] or sponsors.

The following is an extract from 'KC DOG BLOG; Unofficial Watchdog on Animal Welfare Issues' website.

It doesn't take much digging to find articles criticizing Millan's training techniques and calling animal cruelty. The Anti-Cesar Millan facebook group has nearly 3,000 members -- some of who are regular readers of this blog or that I know personally.

And while I understand their criticisms of Millan, I never cease to be amazed at the all-or-nothing attitude that seems to exist in this country where we feel like we have to take polarized views on someone we don't agree with 100%. In reality, Millan has done a lot more good than harm in the animal welfare movement....and even if he's not perfect (who is?!), many animals are in a lot better place now because of him.

...  (Toelner)

The reason I am posting this is because I have been doing a little research into the pro’s and con's of Cesar Millan's methods.

I have sat and watched many extracts Cesar's shows, most of which were posted by the anti-Cesar fraternity,  claiming such things as strangulation and kicking, to name just a few alleged cruel practices.

I must admit that I am not interested in responses to this post; I have my own opinion on Cesar's methods.

However, whereas many of his methods may be dubious, none of those I have seen on the internet and on T.V. claiming to be evidence of his cruelty was, in fact, anything more than people over reacting to something they THOUGHT was cruel. 

The 'strangulation' claim of a wolf X was, in my opinion, a little rough on the eye, but the dog was not, as was claimed, strangled to the point of collapse.

[The film showed Cesar doing what I have seen lots of people doing to avoid being bitten by an aggressive dog. There was no way to tell if it was a deliberate attempt at strangulation or not.]

It was also suggested that Cesar 'brutally kicked' dogs in several clips.  Again, over exaggeration was in play on the part of the people who posted the clips, and the dogs simply got 'taps' with the heel.  I do not advocate kicking ANY animal, but it certainly wasn't brutality. 

[This clip claimed brutality, but in my view there was none and the 'kick' was little more than a tap. Dog owners who yank their dogs lead would probably cause more distress to their dog.]

Another clip was of a border collie that was very aggressive.  On this occasion, Cesar may have over played the 'dominance' card and was a little rough and may even have caused a small amount of stress to the animal.  The result, however, was a dog that could be worked with and would not end up being put to sleep for biting someone.  
(The 'blog' accompanying this clip, failed to mention that the owners had had the dog locked in a garage for ten months due to its aggressive behaviour before Cesar turned up).

Over the past couple of years, I have heard several people say such things as "Don't talk to me about that man!" or "That man is an idiot" and they have often quoted things that he has allegedly done (without providing proof or irrefutable evidence).  
The evidence that I have seen, does not seem to support those claims, but then I haven't dug as deep as some people may have done.  

One question does arise though; why has Cesar never been prosecuted for any of these alleged acts? 

I am not fighting Cesar Millan's corner and there are a lot of things that he does that I wouldn't, but as the article above states "many animals are in a lot better place now because of him".

****                         My apologies if I do not share your views and opinions.                ****
****                                     I prefer to find things out for my self.                                 ****